Harlequin
by RavenStyx
Summary: In the town of Clover is a sagging mansion capable of hiding many secrets. Some fun. Some rotten. (Jerza Halloween Love Fest submission!) Rated M.


**Warnings** _:_ Graphic depictions of violence, sexual content, coarse language.

 **Rated:** M

 _Fairy Tail belongs to Hiro Mashima_

* * *

 ** _Harlequin_**

In a laneway in the town of Clover, between an ancient and sagging mansion and a copse of wiry Bur Oaks, October blew out a short and bitter gust, singing a hymn for the approaching winter. On its currents, golden and fiery leaves left their homes and skittered down the pathway like an army of the wet and dead. Erza shivered in the damp and tugged her black lace skirt back to where it was meant to be, but not before Jellal slipped his hand up beneath the fabric and caressed her behind. She chirped, more than a little drunk, and danced away from him. He smiled in a way that he _knew_ she was weak to and brought her right back to his side. Like he suspected, Erza leaned into him, deciding without much push that it was okay, they were alone here.

Realizing she was compliant, Jellal took it a step further, coming up short to ease her back against the rotting mansion's puckered brick wall. With a swift movement, he tore off the confining ogre's Hollow's Eve mask he wore and leaned down to taste her lips. Juniper heavy gin, mint and blueberry lip balm. It wasn't the greatest combination, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. He prodded her lips apart with little effort and teased a sigh from her lungs.

"Did I tell you I like the harlequin outfit?" Jellal whispered between kisses.

"A hundred times," Erza said. "But you can tell me again." She never thought she like to be worshipped until she was with Jellal.

"I love it, and I don't even like clowns." Using his thumb, he traced her black lined and blue-painted lips. Before, when she was illuminated by the light of the fire, he could see that she'd gone through the effort of making her cheeks exaggeratedly bright, twin cherries resting high on her cheekbones. Now, away from the party with only the light of the quarter moon to kiss her skin, he could only see the darkest of the darks and the brightest of the brights. Her lashes were darker and longer than they'd ever been before, and beneath them were two painted teardrops, blacker than jet. Her costume, though. White and black. Her skirt black with a white lace overlay, her middle (sort of?) covered by a white corset with oversized pom-poms adorning the midline, and her arms sheathed by elbow-length black gloves that were somehow maddeningly erotic. Her boots were his favorite. They must not have been easy to walk in, those knee-high lace-up stilettoes, but Erza wore them with seeming ease. All Jellal could think about was her legs around his shoulders, those heels digging into his skin, her taste on his tongue. Mid-fantasy, he was harder than a rock and shameless, dizzy and forceful with a few too many beers in his system.

Grabbing her, he crushed their mouths together again. Her hands went around his neck; he dropped his stupid mask to the wet ground and grabbed her properly by the waist, forcing her back against the crumbling wall. Her startled noise was muffled. Her arms came up around his neck, pulling him in close. Jellal touched everywhere he could, grabbing her hips and her ribs and her breasts. The corset was in the way, yet he didn't want it to come off. Maybe... Suddenly adventurous, he did what he could to reach into the tight material and pull her breasts out over the top. Erza shuddered and moaned when his cold fingers went between the material and caressed her hardened nipple. That damned corset was so tight, yet Jellal was making progress. Until a noise made him startle, a dry scrape like bone-on-bone.

Erza's eyes came open. She searched the night right along with Jellal, looking for wandering eyes. There was no one.

"Just the wind," Jellal muttered and went back to his challenge. He'd discovered the laces that held the sides together. He tugged them slowly to loosen the corset, eager for what came next.

The leaves rustled, the sound like footsteps sliding through their decaying bodies. Erza grabbed Jellal's wrists and held him tight, listening. "That's not just the wind," she whispered when it came again. "Someone's coming."

Jellal bit the inside of his cheek, riding out his annoyance. He didn't _want_ to stop.

The wind blew and jarred one of the tall, rotting doors just feet away. There had been a board nailing it shut, but someone had torn it out. Now it hung limply, waffling in the breeze doing not much of anything, other than adding to the mansion's poisoned ambiance.

Jellal smiled, slow and wicked. Unease came over Erza as she looked up into that face. The more time she spent with him, the more often she caught glimpses of the man he used to be. _Or maybe he's always been that way,_ she thought. _Maybe nothing much has changed, he just controls himself better now_. It didn't seem so as he grabbed her hand and tugged her forcefully toward the moss and lichen-choked door.

"Jellal, we can't go in there," Erza hissed when she realized exactly his intentions.

"Why not?"

Had his voice always been so raspy? Erza's heart beat harder than she'd like. "There's a No Trespassing sign." Older than time, hanging crookedly on the stone wall, one of the screws used to hold it in long ago rusted and broken.

Jellal grabbed it and yanked it down. It fell right off, like it didn't want to be there anymore, anyway. "I don't see one."

The footsteps were getting closer now, and faster, almost like the person was gearing up to run. The wind blew, forcing the Bur Oaks dominating the skyline to bend toward the ground, each gust a little more unsettling. Urgency was building in Erza's chest, though she couldn't say _why_. Fear, maybe. She pinpointed the location of the footfalls. The person was banking around the corner of the house. They'd be in view in seconds. _I don't want to see them, and I don't want them to see me,_ she thought irrationally. Jellal's hand in hers was both cold and calloused. She tugged him into the mansion with great force, then closed the door behind them as quietly as she could manage. Holding her breath, she pressed her ear against the door to listen. The footsteps approached. They were exactly on the other side of the door. Every muscle in her body tensed, ready for a fight. Then they ran by and faded. She immediately relaxed, slave to a nervous laugh.

It was cut short by Jellal's mouth pressing into hers in a kiss that took her breath right from her lungs. He was insistent, forcing her attention until she met his tongue with hers, then he took his mouth away. Erza was at first frustrated, teased like that. But he kissed her throat and all of that was forgotten. Pressing his hands against her shoulders guided her back against the wall. He leaned into her, erection digging into her thigh.

"Jellal, we…"

He sucked her throat, sidetracking her. "What's that?" he whispered teasingly.

Erza regrouped. "Maybe we shouldn't in here."

"There is no one here."

He was right. And it was heinously difficult to get a moment alone, away from prying eyes. Justified, Erza worked her hand between their bodies and grabbed him, rougher than she normally would have been. He moaned and bit her hard enough that she got dizzy. She rubbed him through his pants. In seconds she forgot all about their locality, even managing to ignore the scent of mildew and mold in the air. She worked Jellal fast until his breathing became heavy, then slowed, teasing.

Jellal let it go on for minutes until he became frustrated and brushed Erza's hands aside. With room to work, he wrestled the button of his pants open. Erza didn't wait for an invitation; she never did. With her insistence, the tip of his erection was abraded by the zipper on his pants. The pleasure of Erza's hands wrapping around his body far outweighed the pain, though. Especially when she pushed him away enough that she could sink to her knees.

The only light that perforated the crumbling building was the moonlight that trickled in from the missing roof boards. It was hardly anything, but enough that Jellal could see Erza's hair glitter like wet garnets. Not even shadow could dull its blaze. Her mouth opened, wet and warm, and welcomed him inside. There was no helping his hips tipping forward, pinning her mostly to the wall while he settled deep in her throat. There was a small noise of protest, her tongue rebuffing his roughness. Her nails dug into his thighs. All things that should make him back up, yet he stayed that way for a second longer, enjoying the control he had. Her fingers cut into him harder than before and he finally got the message, easing back a tiny bit so she could take in a noisy breath. That was all she needed and she was back again, taking him as deep as before, enjoying it as much as he did.

Jellal gathered her hair back from her shoulders and watched her. Red cheeked, pursed lips. Most of the blue lipstick was lost now, smeared on his body or on both of their mouths. He licked his lips and sure enough, the plastic-y chemical taste lingered on his tongue.

It was heaven.

While she sucked, Erza reached between her legs, massaging herself through her damp panties. Her moans were genuine now, not just for Jellal's pleasure. Every swirl of her fingers let Jellal know that she was sensitive, close to coming without the need of much stimulus. He tightened his grip on her hair and reached for the innards of her corset one last time. Success. She spilled out, not neatly like everyone would have you believe of perfect fits of passion, but messily, half-in and half-out in a way that _shouldn't_ be sexy but absolutely was. Jellal grabbed her again, tugging the one breast the rest of the way free. The corset hiked it up ridiculously. Her skin was creamy and rose-capped, delicate. Seizing a whole handful probably didn't feel the greatest, he could do better, surely, under different circumstances when he wasn't feeling like such an animal, but it was enough to make Erza come. Her moans were lewd, muffled around his cock.

Jellal felt his own body tightening and slowed his impetuous ramming into her mouth, coming to a point where he could convince himself to step back. Free, Erza gulped breath and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She was still shaking, riding out the aftermath of her orgasm. Jellal took her by the arm and lifted her to her feet. The soggy floorboards beneath barely made her high heels clink. Not that he planned on giving them much opportunity.

This time, when he reached beneath her skirt, she didn't squeak in a very un-Erza-like fashion; she purred like the queen he knew her to be and helped him get her thong off her body. It went to the floor, laying amongst all of the insect casings and rat bones and dust bunnies and cobwebs and would likely stay there until some adventurous kid wanted a laugh.

He looped his arms around her legs and lifted her as he stood. She gasped, forced to support herself with palms and fingers made into hooked claws that grasped at not much of anything because there was nothing to hang on to. Jellal steadied her. She was much lighter without her armour, and softer, too. It always surprised him. Bending his knees aligned him perfectly with her opening. She was so slick, he just slid in. She was smooth and soft and clutched him tight, both with her body and with her hands, letting go of the wall so her fingers could tuck into his hair. Her legs clamped around his back as well as they could, and he got his wish: her high heels digging into his skin, scratching.

Jellal readjusted and grabbed her by the backside to spread her wide, mostly depending on Erza to keep herself levitated. With better access, he slammed into her and listened to her frantic cries. She was _never_ this loud, always fearful of getting caught. Moonlight and shadow and decrepit houses filled with crooked doors and broken windows made her unafraid. Her body tightened on his as she came again, louder than before without her mouth full. She scratched him and praised. She keened and pulled his hair. She swore loudly and then again in a rough whisper. Jellal sacrificed his hold on her behind so he could find the nub between her legs, swirling gently. She came again with hardly any provocation. This time, he followed suit, coming inside her though he knew he shouldn't.

In the aftermath, there was silence, punctuated by the sounds of their breaths. Erza wriggled some, letting Jellal know that she wanted to be let down. Getting her on the ground without dropping her was harder than lifting her up, his muscles tired now. Jellal managed, somehow. Erza kissed his mouth once more, then set about stuffing herself back into her corset. Jellal did up the strings at the sides again.

Being the first to break the quiet, Jellal restated, "Did I mention I really like the costume?"

Erza laughed. She cut herself short when she heard the sound of a low, dull humming. Cocking her ear to the side helped her to listen. It sounded like… electricity coming to life. "What is that?"

"What…?" Jellal trailed off, hearing it too.

Erza turned her eyes out toward the mansion for the first time since entering. It was really too dark to see with only a few scraps of light sneaking through the roof, but the moon moved across the sky a few inches, making it easier by the second. The eerie blue-white light it emitted blanketed everything it touched. The carnival-style tent, made of red and gold fabric, was the first thing to make itself known. And then the golden pillars of the merry-go-round. Silver horses were illuminated next. Everything had a generous layer of dust added to it after sitting around for so many years.

"Why is there a merry-go-round inside?" Erza asked.

"Because this is Duke Randol's mansion," Jellal said, like that should mean something to her.

"Who?"

Jellal shrugged. "A mage incarcerated and sentenced to death by the magic council over a hundred years ago."

Erza straightened her skirt, pretending that the merry-go-round didn't disquiet her. "For what?"

"Rumor has it, he was luring street children here with his attractions. He'd feed them, treat them decently for a day or two. Then he'd eat them. He'd bury their bones on his family's property in the south."

"You brought me into a killer's house?" Erza demanded, suddenly angry. Not only a killer, but a _cannibal?_

Jellal smirked. "Relax. It's actually a replica. The real deal got torn down after it happened so they could do a proper investigation. This house was erected forty years later as a tourist attraction and a Hallows' Eve destination for the brave." He dropped his voice on the last and raised his brows in that irksome way he had. When Erza still looked sour, he kissed her until she returned it, albeit reluctantly.

Jellal leaned away and regathered his composure, finding a snarky smile to go along with it. "Not frightened, are you?"

"Frightened is the wrong word," Erza replied. Disquieted, because the more they spoke of this, the more she felt certain that they were being watched. Unwillingly, she remembered the sound of footsteps racing through the wet leaves. She shivered. "I think we should leave."

"Erza, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," Jellal told her, suddenly serious. "This house truly is a replica. It stopped its function twenty years ago when the town decided that it was too much to maintain, but—"

The hum of electricity got louder. And then came the sound of gears grinding. Jellal's sentence went forgotten as the first threads of warbled music dropped from unseen speakers. The lights surrounding the base of the merry-go-round came on. Five snapped, immediately broken after years of disuse, while the others flicked and dimmed, flicked and dimmed, then evened out, the brightness less than it should have been.

It was more than bright enough, however, for Erza to see a figure silhouetted, the lights bursting through their legs with every slow revolution of the merry-go-round. They stood facing she and Jellal, their hands loose at their sides, legs spread. The moon shifted some more, offering a little more light. The pants they wore were bright yellow, part of a jumpsuit adorned with large red pompoms. Erza lifted her eyes and saw that they had a cap of puffy hair. It was redder than a candy apple and frizzy. She put all of the pieces together. A clown.

"Hello, Erza." It (he?) had a weird, bubbling voice, like air popping through congealed blood. "Do you want a balloon?" It held out one of its limp hands, a red balloon appearing. It bobbed grotesquely, ruby red on its string.

Erza's heart did a weird skip beat. Her palms got sweaty. She took a step back toward the exit, grasping blindly for Jellal's hand. Finding it, she squeezed.

The clown opened a too-wide mouth and asked, "You're not thinking of going, are you? Once you're in Master Randol's house, no one ever leaves."

 _'Not alive,'_ small voices whispered from the walls.

All of the hair on Erza's body stood on end. "Who are you?"

The merry-go-round squealed horribly. Then the clown was on the move, crossing the room with an unnatural speed. As soon as it stepped out of the light of the moon, Erza lost it, the merry-go-round's lights not nearly bright enough to cut through the gloom. Claw-like hands closed on her arm and pulled her violently. She screamed, unable to help herself, and met the ground hard. A weight landed on top of her. She could feel the cheap polyester of the clown's suit.

The small voices came again. ' _Stay with us, Erza. Protect us from the bad clown.'_

"Stay with us, Erza," the clown bubbled. His breath even _smelled_ like old blood. "Feed the bad clown."

Acrid breath hit her face. Suddenly, she was totally sober, and totally frightened. She called a dagger, wanting mobility, and swung, not caring much about doing real, lasting damage, she just wanted the thing _off_ of her. The blade dug in easily, like sliding through the rotten flesh of a pumpkin.

Hot fluid soaked through Erza's corset, bringing with it a horrible smell, yet the clown didn't move, grasping her with strong hands. The familiar feel of Jellal's magic buffeted Erza's skin. Finally, the clown's weight disappeared. New hands grabbed Erza's wrist and tugged her up. Her high heels didn't twist her ankles. Bully for her. Holding Jellal tight, she did what she almost never did, and ran, pushed to the point of irrationality.

 _'Stay.'_

 _'Don't run from us.'_

Erza depended upon Jellal to find the door, unable to stop looking over her shoulder, searching for the clown, for the creatures that spoke in tandem. Cold, clammy hands brushed the back of her hair, pulling it.

' _Don't leave.'_

Jellal pulled up short. Erza ploughed into him, incapable of stopping in time, and almost fell. By some grace, Jellal stayed upright and Erza got her balance. The sound of a doorknob met her ears, her hearing especially sharp. Jellal jiggled it and cussed.

Feet scraped through insect casings not so far away. Erza squinted, fighting to see, but she was blinded by the merry-go-round's lights. The ride's slow spinning was speeding up now, the music coming from the speakers at a faster rate, though it was just as twisted and warbled as before. Maybe even more so. The clown's laughter joined the twisted sound, a deep, strident gurgle that was closer by the second.

"Hurry, Jellal."

"I'm trying. The door isn't working." There was real panic in his voice.

The air got so cold, Erza shivered uncontrollably. "Break it open then."

Jellal took in a breath. The air filled with magic. Hit with its force, the door bowed, groaning its protest. At first, Erza didn't think it was going to work. Then the doorframe buckled and exploded outward, allowing the nighttime to rush in and she and Jellal to spill out.

As soon as she was able, she ran. Her heels got caught in the wet grass. She didn't let that slow her, chased on by that gross bubbling laughter. Daringly, she looked over her shoulder and saw that the doorway to the mansion was filled by their clown. He was tall, with a chalk-white face splattered by droplets of red. When he smiled with his painted mouth, his teeth were dark, as were his eyes.

Lifting an inhuman hand tipped with long claws, he waved, looking ludicrously happy, and released the balloon he still carried. It floated to the sky. At the peak of the roof, it popped, as if it couldn't bear to be so far away from the tainted presence that kept its form for so long. A wash of blood fell from the sky and disappeared into the dark grass.

Erza ran faster.

* * *

Happy Halloween!


End file.
